Daydreams

Chapter 9

Over the last two weeks of school Dylan and I had acted normal. It was as if he were never a werewolf.

It was just normal again. I mean sure he showed off a bit while climbing trees but that was it.

Aiden and I had been on some amazing dates! It was everything I wanted my first relationship to be like.

Chloe had come home too.

She had had a fight with mom about going out. But since she was over 18 she went anyways.

“You can’t have her just treating you like that!” I told my mom.

“I’ll just leave then! Screw it!” My mom yelled, slamming my door.

I threw my water bottle in my hands at the door, frustrated. I was fighting not to cry but it wasn’t working.

“Did you just throw something at me?!” She came back in.

“No I threw it at the door.” I said clearly.

“Now you’re acting like Chloe! So you saying that I need to watch her treating me is stupid because you’re doing the same thing!”

I threw my hands up in anger as she left.

Seriously!? I was nothing like Chloe! We were two totally different people!

I was so frustrated. I couldn’t even define how mad this fight made me.

I wiped my face and locked my door. I opened my window and climbed out.

I knocked on Dylan’s window.

He peaked out of the curtains before hurrying and opening the window.

“Carter? What are you doing?” He asked while helping me in.

When he had shut the window and turned to me, I burst into tears.

He quickly wrapped his arms around me.

“What happened shortcake?” he whispered, tightening his bare arms around me.

Dylan was only in plaid pajama pants. Which meant no shirt. But now wasn’t the time to enjoy that.

“I’m sorry.” I wiped my face, also wiping his shoulder.

He shrugged.

“What happened?”

“Just my stupid mom.” I sighed, steadying my breathing.

Dylan laid back on his bed, putting his hands behind his head.

“Talk to me.”

I smiled slightly.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

“Chloe’s just a bitch and I tried to help and my mom lashed out on me.” I sighed.

Dylan was quiet for a while. Then he slowly brought his hand around my waist and pulled me back, laying next to him.

I tried to ignore the electricity through my body.

Dylan scooted over and made more room for me to lay by him.

“You never really talked about your mom to me Car.” He said.

I memorized the little details of his ceiling.

“Because whenever I tell someone how she treats me they either blame it on me or tell me I’m overreacting.”

“I’d never blame you.” He shook his head.

Dylan was always very implicit with situations. He didn’t need details or even the story, but he said what you want to hear and meant it.